Dreaming of fishes and ladders
by 3.14rate
Summary: A gaze into Felicity's inner thoughts as she contemplates life and the reason for most of his scars. Juggling between those and trying to finish an important proposal for work while being slightly (very) distracted by a shirtless and very much sweaty Oliver as he attempts the Salmon Ladder... right in front of her.
1. Sweaty

A/N: Something fun I thought of, a drabble of embarrassing and slightly (to heavily) sexual fantasies Felicity would find herself in.

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

There was not much the very flustered woman could do, she tried avoiding her gaze, yet like moths drawn to flame, her eyes always returned in his direction, ever so obviously. It felt so surreal to her, caught between hallucination and a dream, yet the pinch marks on her elbows made her believe otherwise. She blinked, diverting her stare towards the screens in front of her, she was supposed to be busy, there were people she had to track, files to decrypt, messages to intercept.

Yet... She peeked upwards, painfully aware of the fact that this man knew not of what he was doing to her. Metal clanged nosily across the tiny basement, one that never felt more suffocating than it was this very moment. His body seemingly flexed effortlessly with each thrust of his arms, sending him up another bar, giving her yet another chance to graze over his fine silhouette.

She would have been a fool to not notice how drenched the man was, how his body almost glistened with a layer of his own sweat, how trails of it dripped down the contours of his muscles, along his ribs, down to the very noticeable V of his... but she was no fool, and thus, never had the woman been more distracted in her life.

Another loud clang, up a level, down a level, she had lost count of the sets he had done, but then again, who was counting. A different noise this time however, shoes against cemented floor, she ducked, for no reason other than how guilty she felt, hoping that he wouldn't approach her in his current form, luckily, he did not.

After a few short moments which felt uncomfortable longer than they should have been, she slowly peeked back over the top of her monitors, noticing him now sending punches into the open air, a shadow boxing of some form, mixed with all the different styles of fighting he had learnt over the years, most which she guessed were lethal than not.

It was not long before he returned to the usual, a powerful lunge as he hopped into the air, his palm firmly wrapping around the metal bar, the back of his body facing her as he proceeded to again "climb" the salmon ladder.

She watched, intrigued at the intensity of his workout, her gaze lowering, then noticing a long gash down the side of his back, it started from the side of his ribs, all the way down to the center of his back, a long and clearly marked scar. Two darkened spots laid above the line and even more layers of blemished skin above those. She never asked, but always wondered. His body was like a book, each scar, each tattoo, a different story.

She knew him well, but it took her years to only briefly pierced the edge of his facade, she knew he would not tell her the reason for most of those, and as much as she wanted to kno-

She felt her back pressing against the wall, pinned against it as his toned abs brushed against her stomach. His warm skin grazed across hers, static, electrifying in their contact, her breathing increased, her own heartbeat thrummed heavily in her chest. "Wh- What are you doing?"

Her hands, small in comparison to his moved across his broad shoulders, his very own digging into the side of her hips, her breath drew sharp, a slight yelp as his fingers gave her rear a firm squeeze. She gasped, but was given no reprieve, his lips pressed onto the side of her neck, a weak spot not known to many.

He trailed upwards, his teeth grazing across the underside of her ears, yet another weakness, she moaned, her body trembled as his heated voice whispered in her ears, "I... need yo-"

**No.**

It wouldn't be like that. She shook her head, her cheeks flushed red at her own imagination. He would not be so... forward... would he? She watched as he started pulling himself up onto the bar, using only a single hand. He had always given her the image of being in control, it wasn't like him to be so brash, so... direct.

Her eyes followed a single drop of sweat, one that ran down the center of his back, it stopped at the edge of the visible scar, it's route blocked, directed into another path.

She found herself held tightly in his embrace, actually... slightly lifted as his powerful arms wrapped around hers, "how did you get dry-" A finger was quickly pressed onto her lips, silencing any further complaints, or flaws in her fantasy.

They both fell, sinking into the softened cushions as they tumbled into a sort of clumsy embrace. He laughed, but not at the awkwardness, it felt soft, confident. She was aware of his palm resting against her thighs, and her heart began to race. Another smile, this time slightly reassuring, his hand reaching out towards hers, their fingers entwining as he brought hers in his direction.

He pressed her palm against his chest, her hand resting on the scar she previously noticed. He guided her touch, trailing along the injured skin, allowing her to feel his body shivering beneath their touch, "I was injured six years ago," he muttered as he continued her hand downwards, towards the edge of his pants, the scar continued inwards, she hesitated, he did not.

"In China, stopping poaches from hunting pandas when-" She felt her fingers slipped into the waistband of his pants, a moment too soon, as she suddenly stopped. "Wait, you're not in Africa six years ag-"

She blinked, and everything disappeared. She was back on her seat, him still hanging a couple feet in the air. She pressed her palm against her forehead, sighing deeply as she looked back towards the proposal she owed Ray, not a single word was written on that blank document.

This was not going to be a productive day at all.

Fin.

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	2. Sucking

She looked up at him for the briefest of moments, the radiantly blue eyes of hers glancing across his tensed exterior. Their eyes caught, only for a fleeting second. She looked away, embarrassed, redden beyond belief. He most probably noticed the cocktail of nervousness and anxiety brewing inside of her with that one single look, Oliver was like that. He always knew what laid behind the other's eye. She could never hide her feelings from him, as much as she tried.

In a way, they were complete opposites. She could never sense what occured behind those emerald eyes of his, could never hear the gears spinning in his mind. There were moments of course… moments of his slipped façade, a tiny chink in his armor. The lingering gaze he occasionally kept on her when he thought she would not notice, the way his hands lightly tremble whenever he just saved her from danger. She did not need his (seemingly) mind reading abilities to know that somewhere inside that quivered heart of his, lies an arrow with her name on it.

The soft rustling of clothing brought her attention back to the task at hand, the man sitting inches away removing his overcoat, slipping himself out of the dark colored clothing before wrapping it around the back of his chair. He looked right at her, as if waiting for her to… begin. To start.

Slowing bending her head downwards, she made sure a free arm brushed against the side of her neck, holding up the loose blonde locks of hers, making sure that they did not tumble messily around her. Her pink lips parted softly, forming a tiny "o" as they moved closer to the object in front of her. Her tongue darted outwards, wetting the edges of her lips, a sort of subconscious instinct, perhaps due to her own growing nervousness.

It felt hot, even before contact she could feel its waffling heat inches away from her approaching mouth. It's scent slipped upwards, her eyes slightly fluttering at its intoxicating aroma. Pressing the tips of her lips against the long glistening object, she enjoyed it's somewhat smooth texture. Widening her mouth slightly, her pink borders brushed against the entering object, sliding down its warm body, taking it into her waiting mouth.

It grazed across the tip of her tongue, showering her with its taste. As it was something she was not too experienced with, she prayed for herself to not gag in recoil if it disagreed with her taste-buds. But to her surprise, it was… pleasant. A little saltier than she would have liked, but still… tasty.

He seemed to be equally enjoying the situation, a few soft groans coming from his direction, the woman still too embarrassed to look. Gaining a sort of new found confidence in her actions, she sucked more of it in, feeling the heated object fill her mouth, her increased speed sending a drip of liquid down the side of her lips. Her tongue licked it clean, before returning to the task in front of her, lapping it up in one fluid movement.

"Oh my..."

She heard him moan her name softly afterwards, "it feels so good."

Felicity smiled, proudly at his compliments, watching as he dug his utensils yet again into the huge bowl of noodles in front of him. Slurping the strand she held in her mouth up from her own plate, she wiped at her face before entirely agreeing with him.

"Wow, we should really get Diggle to cook more often, this spaghetti is so. damn. good!"

**fin  
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><p>Do leave a review if you enjoy!<p>

AjsRandom: Thanks for reading (:


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